A Story of Radical Forgiveness

What a gift, I thought. A circle of Radical Forgiveness just a couple of days after Yom Kippur, which is, for those of you that are unaware, the Jewish Day of Atonement. Atonement being beyond forgiveness. I suppose if you have been dealing with feelings of guilt and retribution for a couple of thousand years, you would somehow end up dedicating a day to the concept of “beyond forgiveness”, perhaps we should have called it Radical Forgiveness? That must be a Jewish (or perhaps a Catholic concept). “You think forgiveness is difficult, my son? Try true forgiveness, radical forgiveness – try atonement!” It is not enough to forgive—no. You actually have to atone for your sins.

Before launching into this actual story, let me just spend a moment on atonement. For, really, it is a lovely word. It is about the tone. Perhaps it is easier for me to think of it as attunement. It is like the piano tuner coming in to readjust your strings. We call them gurus I suppose. But in this era of radical individualism, we have to go it alone, folks. Find yourself a space in your house, dedicate it to your higher purpose, and begin your lonely contemplation. But, truly, the image that comes to mind is of attuning yourself to the higher frequencies. Making music with the angels. What an uplifting thought: Vibrating in tune with the angelic chorus…

The other reason that I was drawn to it, is due to the fact that my love and I had just moved into a house in Gloucester, and this gathering was to be held in that area. Being new to the place, we were interested, nay eager, to meet new people and connect with them.

So, I send email back and forth with Abe, forging what seems to be a very sweet email connection. This gives me an even better feeling about this pending gathering.

The night rolls around. I rush back from work – no easy feat, believe me, considering it is a 55 minute commute at best through some of the busiest intersections in the city. With no time to even have a quick bite to eat, we jump back in the car, and off to seek some unknown road in the midst of the twisting, ancient pathways of East Gloucester. We find it, and walk in—to encounter an older man, who greets us sweetly and invites us to have some food. I am ravenous, and so is Lyn. We gulp down some cold lentil soup, grab some cookies and continue on to the backspace where the workshop is to be held.

It is a lovely, clean space. Airy with writing on the walls and a couch at one end. Piles of backrests against another wall. And a group of pleasant women. Often I am the only man in these groups. But this time there were 4 men and 9 women. Pretty good. The others seemed to know one another fairly well. Lyn and I were definitely the newcomers.

Backrests are arranged, sorrounded all the paraphernalia—like water bottles, pillows, talismans, etc.—that we need to enter into sacred space. As you may appreciate, doing this work is not easy. You might have to become vulnerable and expose yourself. You might have to get close to a stranger. All of this is very scary for this xenophobic society of immigrants. Oh, the contradictions we exist within. If we really took a true tally of the many, extreme contradictions that make up who we are, I think we would blow a fuse. In fact, in the latter period, I have come to the conclusion that tension between these opposites is what holds together the very fabric of our being.

We are gathered at last. Abe gives a little intro, and we are to spend a moment in meditation, before embarking on our exploration. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Immediately I drop into a deeper space, and see a host of angelic beings that descend to participate in this workshop with us. They have come down to help and guide us—for, according to those that are in the know, forgiveness is an important action for us to embrace at this time and in this place. I am overcome with a deep feeling of rightness and joy. They dance and flitter above us, concentrated in the area of Abe and his cohort Debra, as the gateways, as the ones who are to be the portal. It seems that they are waiting for something, like an invitation or an acknowledgement at least. Debra is leading the meditation, and after a couple of moments of quiet, she begins to “play” a crystal bowl, producing that high-pitched tone, that they are famous for.

Now I have heard and played the singing bowls from Tibet, which are fashioned mainly from copper, I believe it is, that have a wonderful resonance. This is the first time I have seen or heard a crystal bowl. Well, as I try to attune myself to the sound, I notice the angels become very agitated. They are now no longer just dancing and floating above us, but have become somewhat disturbed. They are jittery, and become almost squeaky. They rush here and there, as the sound now seems to cut through their midst like a knife, separating them. For a while they rush around, hither and thither, and then give up and just disappear.

A deep feeling of sadness and loss overcomes me. I do not understand this. It was done with the deepest sincerity. Debra is a very true and sincere seeker. What happened?

I wonder if it is these crystal bowls. They are not attuned to the frequency. They are not handmade. The intention is not in them. They are manufactured by the thousands. They are easy. They are mechanically tuned. Perhaps they have lost their soul!

This is indicative of what is occurring in new age spiritually. We import deep traditions and then mass-market them to the consumers and people buy it. We do not have the time, we say, to investigate or do the training that is necessary to produce the depth of knowing that is needed to take ourselves and others into these deeper realms.

We do not have any tools with which to evaluate people’s abilities either. How could we? When you are talking about non-quantifiable realms, how can we ascertain whether someone is a shaman or a shyster?

I pray for all of us, brothers and sisters, that we may find the true spirits that have descended to guide and protect us. And that the untrue beings be banished to torment the souls that need it for their emergence.

Amen.